


Hermione's No Good, Very Bad Day

by Sharkdiver1980



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7368295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharkdiver1980/pseuds/Sharkdiver1980
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not seeing any other option, she refilled her drink, and downed it in another gulp. She was not nearly drunk enough yet to mentally withstand being fondled by Voldemort in a dirty back-alley pub."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Viper Room

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This should go without saying, but this is totally a crack fic - it's meant to make you laugh! Poor Hermione…*cackles evilly* There is one more chapter to this story, since the intent was to make this just a 2 part short story. There aren’t nearly enough stories poking fun at our favorite couple (well, I actually lean more towards Tomoine, but for the purposes of this story, I thought it would be so much more awkward and funny if he was actually Lord Voldemort. ) Anyway, I love to hear reviews! Thank you in advance for taking the time to read this travesty, and at least, I hope it made you laugh a little. I know laughed so hard, I may have peed a little.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://photobucket.com/)

 

**Chapter 1 – The Viper Room**

 

 

“Harry, are you sure about this place?” Hermione said as she let a drunk Harry and Ron pull her inside the dingy ill-lit pub.

 

“We made a deal…hic…Hermione, that we would have a drink in every pub in Diagon Alley…hic…before the night was through.” Harry reasoned.

 

“’Sides, Mione, it can’t be any worse than the Bloody Hogshead…” Ron nodded in agreement with Harry.

 

“Ron, this place is called the Viper room…maybe we should skip this one” Hermione said as a feeling of dread crept down her spine.

 

“No problem then, Hermione. I’m a Parselmouth, remember?” Harry laughed drunkenly at her apprehension.

 

Hermione sighed, knowing there was no way she was going to win this battle with two drunk wizards who were clearly intent on having another drink.

 

Harry dragged them over to a small table, Hermione noted its state of cleanliness was questionable at best. She could practically feel the germs crawling over her skin already, and she pulled a small bottle of hand sanitizer out of her purse squeezing a drop onto her hands.

 

“Well, well, well…what have we ‘ere” a familiar voice came from behind them.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Hermione turned sharply towards the source of the voice, and met eyes with a smirking Antonin Dolohov who was now flanked by Evan Rosier and Theodore Nott.

 

“Oh Piss off. I’m off duty, and all I want is a drink. Now, run back to your master and kiss his ass some more and leave us the fuck alone.” Harry spat without even looking up for his fire whiskey.

 

Hermione’s eyes bugged out of her head. This wasn’t going to end well.

 

She watched as Dolohov was about to pull out his wand and fling a curse at Harry, when a familiar cane with the head of a cobra shot out in front of him, effectively stilling his movements.

 

“Ah…Mister Potter…Mister Weasely…and Miss Granger. How surprising it is to see you three here.” Lucius Malfoy said silkily with fake sincerity.

 

“Lucius, you can go eat a bag of dicks. Now if you don’t mind…” Harry said nonchalantly before pouring himself another glass of fire whiskey.

 

“Harry!” Hermione scolded him, appalled at his language as well as the fact that he seemed to not care one whit if a room full of Death Eaters decided to kill them. What in Merlin’s Balls had gotten into him?!

 

Ron snorted into his beer at the look of utter shock on Lucius’ face at Harry’s insult and clear dismissal.

 

Hermione felt like she had to do something to try and save their necks. She didn’t want to apologize to Death Eaters, but maybe if she sent them a temporary peace offering, they would let them live. Both sides had been fighting against one another for several years now, without any progress being made. All because of a stupid prophecy that she personally felt was utter bullshit anyway. The fighting had become so exhausting to both sides, that at this point, they all just wanted to be able to have a drink in peace. The Death Eaters were just as frustrated with the lack of progress. She had even noticed that some of the Death Eater attacks lately seemed to lack their usual bite, like they just didn’t care anymore.

 

Hermione walked self-consciously up to the bar, and asked that a round of drinks be sent over to the Death Eater’s table. She would tell them it was a peace offering, and ask politely, for their sake of all their sanity, if they could just pretend that they didn’t exist for the one night.

 

She saw their drinks being delivered, and she watched as several eyebrows raised when the bartender explained that the lady had bought their drinks.

 

Hermione swallowed thickly, keeping her hand on her wand in her pocket just in case, and walked resolutely up to the table.

 

“Good evening, Gentleman. Please accept the drinks on behalf of my companions and I - We didn’t intend to disturb you, so we will just finish our drink, and we will be on our way.” Hermione offered.

 

“On the contrary, Miss Granger, _you_ will join us for a drink.” Another familiar voice came from directly behind her that made the blood freeze in her veins. Lord Voldemort.

 

“Oh, I couldn’t, Ron and Harry will worry…” Hermione offered with a fake smile, hoping that she was putting up a convincing façade.

 

“Oh, but I’m afraid I must insist.” Voldemort breathed against her neck, making gooseflesh raise on her skin. She felt his long fingers caress the small of her back, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

 

“Well, alright, I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt.” Hermione swallowed trying to keep the fear out of her voice.

 

He guided her to an open seat at the table, where he pushed down on her shoulder so that she had no choice but to sit, and then he pulled out the chair beside her and elegantly took his own seat. She watched as Voldemort snapped his finger at the bartender, and pointed at Hermione without a word.

 

To say that she felt awkward was an understatement. The tension at the table was palpable, and she felt like she could cut it with a proverbial knife. Everyone at this table, had at one time or another, tried to kill her, and for all intents and purposes, still wanted her very much dead.

 

Hermione clasped her hands together in her lap, hoping to hide the fact that they were shaking. She glanced at Voldemort out of the corner of her eye, and his gaze was firmly fixed upon her, as if she were the most interesting thing in the world.

 

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and thanked Merlin when the bartender brought her a glass of fire whiskey.

 

Before he could walk away, Hermione snatched a hand out, and grabbed the bottle from him, and said in a slightly shaking voice, “I’ll just keep the bottle here too, thanks.” Then proceeded to down her drink in one gulp.

 

She heard a deep chuckle next to her and chanced a look at the Dark Lord.

 

“You know, for a mudblood, you certainly are full of surprises.” He said smoothly as he sipped his fire whiskey.

 

“And for a Dark Lord, you are also quite full of surprises.” Hermione shot back at him, pouring herself another drink.

 

All eyes at the table widened in surprise that she, a lowly mudblood, would dare speak to the Dark Lord in such familiar tones. His lips twitched at her cheek, and he asked, “Oh? How so? Do elaborate, Miss Granger.”

 

Hermione downed her second drink, and turned a bit to face him, “Well, for starters, you are drinking fire whiskey. I would’ve thought you would be drinking some really expensive elf-made wine or something much more sophisticated than _Ogden’s finest_. Secondly, this place is kind of a shit hole… _pardon my French_ …I wouldn’t have expected you to lower your standards to actually grace a place such as this with your _almighty_ presence…” She said the last part with a hint of sarcasm, which she was sure he caught, “And thirdly, you are sitting here, having a drink with a mudblood. What is the world coming to?” She finished and poured herself another drink. She was certain, that at any moment, she would be hit with a well-placed ‘ _Avada Kedavra’_.

 

Instead, he surprised her even further when he actually _laughed_.

 

“Miss Granger, I knew you would prove to be entertaining. It pleases me to see that I was right about you.”

 

Hermione raised her glass in a mock salute and held the bottle towards him offering him a refill. An old muggle saying crossed her mind, _‘If you can’t beat ‘em, Join ‘em_.’ She wouldn’t be joining their cause anytime soon, but for tonight, since she was apparently stuck in this situation, she had no choice but to go along with it.

 

It was at that moment that Harry and Ron sauntered up to their table, drunk out of their minds, and Hermione groaned.

 

“ _Oh here we go_..” she muttered into her glass of fire whiskey.

 

“What the bloody hell is this?!” Ron slurred gesturing between Hermione and Voldemort, who she had noticed had shifted even closer to her than he had been before.

 

“Ron, it’s nothing, we’re just having a drink is all.” Hermione stammered trying to diffuse the potentially fatal situation.

 

She practically jumped out of her skin when she felt Voldemort’s arm slither around her waist and pull her against him. _What the bloody fuck was he doing?!_

 

“Run along back to mummy, Mister Weasley; Miss Granger is sufficiently capable in making her own decisions on who she keeps company with.” He whispered seductively

 

_Wait a minute…seductively?_

 

“She could see Ron’s face turning purple, and his hand was twitching at his side. She was mentally willing Ron to use whatever brain cells he still had and walk away before he got them all killed.

 

Harry, who had been silent up to that point, squinted his eyes at her, completely misreading the situation.

 

“Let’s go, Mate, Hermione’s clearly made her choice. I for one, have zero fucks to give at this point.”

 

Hermione inhaled sharply at Harry’s accusation that she had chosen to sit there next to the Dark Lord _willingly_. _Was he truly that thick?!_

 

“Harry James Potter, you are an unbelievable prat! If you don’t go home and sleep it off right now, I swear to merlin that if they don’t hex you, _I will_.” Hermione shouted, her magic crackling around her angrily.

 

Harry snorted, then grabbed Ron’s arm and pulled him out of the pub. They just left her there. with _Voldemort_. She was going to fucking kill the both of them, if she got out of this alive.

 

“What a pity. It seems as if your companions have left without you. I daresay it would be rude of me to allow you to leave here tonight unescorted. Knockturn Alley is no place for a woman, especially a mudblood such as yourself.” Voldemort whispered silkily in her ear, once again making goosebumps rise on her skin.

 

“That won’t be necessary. I assure you, I’ll be quite alright.” She sniffed haughtily, choosing to ignore his casual use of the slur she so hated.

 

“Oh, no, _Hermione_ …I must insist.” He breathed against her neck, inhaling her clean scent.

 

She could feel the hand that had just been on her waist slide lower under the table and run along her thigh. She choked on her fire whiskey, not sure at all what she should do…normally, she would slap or curse any bloke who dared to touch her that way without her consent, but one does not simply go around slapping the Dark Lord, especially not in front of a table full of Death Eaters.

 

_Shit._

 

Not seeing any other option, she refilled her drink, and downed it in another gulp. She was not nearly drunk enough yet to mentally withstand being fondled by Voldemort in a dirty back-alley pub.

 

She glanced at him again out of the corner of her eye, and she could see he was smirking at her, daring her to stop him.

 

When she felt his hand moving dangerously close to her knickers, she slipped a hand under the table and placed her hand over his own in a subtle attempt to stop him for going any further.

 

“It’s getting awfully late, I suppose I should be getting home. Thank you for a…er…lovely evening.” She attempted to stand, but he only squeezed his hand on her thigh keeping her firmly in place.

 

“I think not, Hermione. I’ve yet to finish my drink.” He said smoothly, taking another small sip of fire whiskey.

 

Hemione sighed, and mentally thought about what she could possibly do to extricate herself from the situation. She couldn’t curse him, he was much more powerful than she was, not to mention he had plenty of backup sitting at the same table. She thought for a moment about flirting with Lucius, since anyone of these men were much less dangerous than the one currently tracing small circles on her inner thigh with his thumb. She glanced again at him from beneath her eye lashes and he was staring at her intently, as if she was a juicy piece of steak.

 

He had to be toying with her, trying to put her off balance. It was _working_. He couldn’t possibly be attracted to her, could he? She was a mudblood, after all, he would never sully himself with the likes of her, surely. It was then, that Hermione recognized the familiar glint in his eyes. _Lust_. The look he was giving her, as he slowly sipped his fire whiskey, all the while trailing his fingers along the edge of her satin knickers, was unmistakable. She had always viewed him as sort of an ‘asexual’ being…he had only ever seemed to crave power, and seemed to place himself above such trivial matters as sexual gratification. But, it seemed, as she was quickly finding out, that the Dark Lord was indeed, full of surprises.

 

She bit the inside of her cheek nervously, as a sudden overpowering curiosity overtook her. She had always been a curious girl by nature, which she supposed is why she read every book she could get her hands on, and seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Seeing this side of the dark wizard who currently sat beside her, who had for years been such an enigma, intrigued her. She wanted to see how far she could push him.

 

She took another swig of her Fire whiskey, noting that the other Death Eaters had seemed to lose interest in her by this point, and had fallen into their own conversations, not paying any attention to them. Hermione casually slipped her left hand under the table, and grazed her fingers lightly across his upper leg. She saw his eyes widen momentarily in surprise then flick to her before taking another sip of his drink. Outwardly, he was not showing any reaction to what she had just done, so she decided to take it a step further. Her hand continued up his leg, until she reached the juncture of his thighs, and let out a small gasp of surprise when her hand came in contact with a rather large bulging erection. His eyes once again flicked over to her while he casually swirled his drink around his glass, and smirked at her. She covered her gasp of shock with a small cough, and once again took a sip of her drink before she glanced shyly back over to him to gauge his reaction. Clearly, he was enjoying it, if his huge erection was anything to go by, but aside from his completely relaxed posture, and the small smirk at the corner of his lips, he wasn’t making any attempt to stop her. Not only was she surprised that she could ever put the words ‘Dark Lord’ and ‘Erection’ into the same sentence, but, even more shocking was how well-endowed he was. She had only ever fooled around with Ron, who unfortunately was not very blessed in that area, until she had met Viktor Krum in her fourth year. She had eventually lost her virginity to Krum the summer before her seventh year, and he was average at best. Voldemort, it seemed, was not even in the same ball park…he was huge.

 

She had to stifle a snort of laughter when the thought ‘ _now I know where he hides Nagini’_ popped into her head. Had she been paying attention, she would have noticed that she could suddenly feel a bit of a draft. She realized to her horror that her knickers had suddenly vanished. She only had a moment to register this new development before she felt his long fingers slip between her folds and rub her clit sending a jolt of pleasure along all the nerve endings in her body.

 

She inhaled sharply and bit her lip to keep from crying out. She would be absolutely mortified if the Death Eaters that currently surrounded her knew that their Lord was fingering her right in front of them at the table. Two could play at this game. Trying to throw him off balance, she slipped her small hand inside his robes to grasp his hard length and begin to slowly stroke it. That finally got a reaction out of him. His nostrils flared and he inhaled sharply at her boldness. In retaliation, he thrust two fingers into her causing her to gasp and bite her lip, while lowering her eyes to the table.

 

This caught the unwanted attention of Lucius Malfoy. He looked up at her sharply, and then his eyes flicked over to his master, whose attention seemed to be fixated on the little chit. He wondered if Voldemort was using some creative curse of his own invention to cause her pain, because surely, her face could only be grimacing like that if she was in agony…His lip curled in triumph as he felt the mudblood was getting exactly what she deserved.

 

Hermione began to pump her hand faster in retaliation, hoping that he would cease fingering her if he was having difficulty maintaining control of himself. In response, he curled his fingers slightly inside of her, hitting a spot she didn’t even know existed. To her horror, she actually _moaned_. In her desperation, she recalled a spell that she had once used on Viktor when she wanted to get back at him for trying to feel her up in the library. She whispered the incantation against her right hand, which she brought up to her mouth. She stuck the tip of her thumb nonchalantly in her mouth, and swirled her tongue across the tip. He suddenly choked on his fire whiskey and she could swear she heard him say, ‘ _Fuck_ ’ under his breath.

 

All eyes were on him now, as Dolohov dared to ask him if he was alright. He merely glared at him and told him ‘ _to mind his own fucking business_.’

 

Hermione snickered until she felt the sensation of his tongue lapping at her folds, and she felt a shudder run through her as she squeaked in surprise. She chanced a look in his direction, and watched as his tongue licked a stray bit of fire whiskey from the edge of the glass. So he knew the same spell she did. _Touché._

 

The fact that she was extremely aroused sitting at a table full of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself, despite her total hatred of said group, did not escape her notice. The realization that she would actually be disappointed if he didn’t finish her off made her even more pissed at Harry. How dare he leave her with this kinky pervert.

 

She noticed in her heightened state of arousal, that Voldemort’s glass was finally empty. Good, now maybe he would let her leave.

 

“Now that you’ve finished, I’d very much like to leave.” She said in a voice that was tinged with barely concealed lust.

 

“On the contrary, Miss Granger, I’ve only just begun.” He smirked and her eyes slipped shut as she felt his fingers teasing her clit once more. She tried to bite back a groan as he teased her mercilessly under the table, thankfully leaving the rest of them oblivious to what was taking place.

 

“Since you so graciously offered to escort me, I must insist that you _take me home right now_.” She whispered to him, glaring at him as if to say, ‘ _Either take me home and fuck me already, or cut the shit._ ’

 

He raised his brow in silent challenge, and she felt his fingers slip out of her. She had already pulled her hand from his robes when she had noticed his glass was empty and she asked to leave.

 

“Lucius!” Voldemort suddenly barked, causing the blond man to look up at him sharply afraid he had done something to displease him.

 

“Yes, my lord” Lucius bowed in a pathetic manner towards the dark man beside her.

 

“Pay the man. I’ll see to Miss Granger, Personally.” He said smoothly as he wrapped his long fingers around her upper arm jerking her to her feet. He pulled her roughly against his chest, and smirked down at her before apparating them away.

 

Hermione knew it was far from over when she saw that they were standing in a large cemetery which quickly doused the lingering arousal she had been feeling, and she suddenly remembered just whose arms she was currently wrapped in.

 

She looked around the crumbling headstones with distaste, the fire whiskey she had consumed still making her feel bold enough to address him.

 

“You know, my flat would’ve been just fine…you don’t really expect me to do this here, do you?!” she asked waving her arm at the headstones for emphasis, “I mean, I know you’re dark, but this is a bit much...”

 

He looked at her confused for a moment before he snorted at her with laughter. “Merlin’s Beard, girl, this is only an apparition point. My home is over there.” And he pointed to where a large estate, which had somewhat fallen into disrepair, sat at the edge of the cemetery.

 

“Thank Goodness for that” she breathed in relief, and he chuckled darkly at her.

 

“I wouldn’t get quite so comfortable yet, if I were you.” He told her pulling her roughly behind him towards the large house. She practically had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Once they reached the house, the wards automatically adjusted to let them in, and then firmly fell back into place once more. She looked around, and took in the tasteful décor of the entrance hall. Judging from the outside, you would never suspect that the house was impeccably clean and orderly, and the décor was tastefully modern. A far cry from the garish décor of Malfoy Manor, which in her opinion was utterly gaudy. . .

 

“Would you like another drink?...” He asked her awkwardly, and she couldn’t hold back a snort at the absurdity of the situation.

 

“I think I’ve already had quite enough, thanks.” She replied nervously, while he stood looking at her silently. He seemed to be studying her, making her feel like a bug under a microscope. It wasn’t until she began to fidget nervously that he finally seemed to make a decision and step towards her.

 

He pulled her cloak from her shoulders, and tossed it on a nearby divan. Suddenly, without warning, he lifted her the muggle way, as if she weighed no more than a feather, with his arm under her knees while he held her against his chest. She squeaked in surprise when she felt her feet leave the floor, and clutched him tightly around his neck. Without a word, he carried her up the stairs to what she assumed was the Master bedroom. A fire was already crackling in the hearth, and once inside, he set her down gently on her feet. She stood close to him still, taking in his pleasant scent, which was now mingled with a touch of cinnamon from the fire whiskey. He dipped his head down to hers and began kissing her. She never in a million years would ever imagine that Voldemort was a sensual kisser, but once again, he was full of surprises. His tongue twined against hers as his elegant hands slid down her waist.

 

Hermione was so wrapped up in the kiss, that she screamed and literally climbed him like a tree when she felt something large and heavy slither over her foot.

 

“What the fuck was that?” she screeched horrified realizing that his goddamn snake, Nagini, was loose in the room somewhere. Hermione was absolutely terrified of snakes. While the rest of wizarding Britain saw the man she had just been snogging as their worst nightmare, Nagini was most definitely hers.

 

“It’s just Nagini, calm yourself.” He said in an annoyed tone while trying to untangle her legs from his waist.

 

“Can you put it outside or something? Oh my god, it touched me!” She shrieked again when she felt the snake curiously attempting to slither up his body to get a better look at the girl in his arms.

 

She heard him give an annoyed huff, and then hissing sounds came from his mouth in a commanding sort of tone that Hermione thought was the sexiest thing she had ever heard. Ginny had told her once that Harry had begun hissing at her while they were having sex, but she couldn’t imagine such a thing being sexy until right now. She watched as the large snake thankfully, slithered out of the room, and the door clicked shut behind it.

 

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment when she realized that she had just climbed onto Voldemort’s back because she was afraid of his snake. Surely he would _crucio_ the bejesus out of her for that little stunt.

 

“Sorry! I really don’t like snakes.” She answered honestly, waiting for him to either curse her with an unforgivable, or throw her out of his house.

 

Once again, he surprised her and he laughed. “It’s funny that you should say that.” He chuckled as he brushed a stray curl behind her ear.

 

“Oh? And why is that?” she asked curiously, starting to feel self-conscious again.

 

“Because you are about to go to bed with one.” He said huskily as he moved towards her once again nipping her neck and slipping his hands under her skirt to cup her bottom, which was bare to him since he had not seen fit to give back her knickers. He moaned against her throat, and she could feel his hardness once more as she pressed against him. His long fingers found the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head before making quick work of her bra. She reached back to unzip her skirt, but he stilled her hands and whispered huskily in her ear to ‘ _leave it on’_

 

She felt a rush of wetness between her thighs at his kinky suggestion, and finally, she began to remove his robes. She had been curious as to what he would look like under all that black. He was extremely pale and lean, but well-toned. Before she could remove the black silk pants he was wearing and see the part of him she had already been imtimately acquainted with earlier in the pub, he stilled her hands.

 

“Go lay on the bed, and spread your legs. I want to watch you pleasure yourself.”

 

It was a command, not a request, and she felt a spark of desire throb between her legs. She had never been creative when it came to sex, especially since she wasn’t the most experienced person. She had only ever done it in the missionary position. She certainly had never experimented with bondage or domination before. To her surprise, she liked being told what to do. She was always the one bossing others around, so it actually felt good to have someone firmly take control away from her and tell her what to do for once.

 

She scooted onto the bed, never tearing her eyes away from his as she lay back in the center, propped up on the pillows. She let her legs fall open, and she bit her lip shyly as she slipped a hand down between her legs and begin to move her fingers over her clit. She mentally debated with herself if she should do it the way porn stars did to look enticing, or like she did it when she was alone. She opted to go the porn star route, since she was sure he didn’t have any vibrators lying around. At least she didn’t think so…

 

She watched him through hooded eyes as he stood at the foot of the bed watching her closely, his eyes glittering with undisguised lust. He finally untied the drawstring of his pants and let them fall to the floor.

 

Her eyes grew wide when she took in the sight of him, her hand stopping its movement while she mentally processed what she was seeing. She had known he was rather large, but, seeing it staring her in the face was a whole other kettle of fish.

 

“Something wrong?” he questioned before he began to crawl towards her on the bed like a cat stalking its prey.

 

“No…it’s just...it’s… big.” She admitted sheepishly.

 

“So I’ve been told.” He said nonchalantly.

 

Her mouth fell open at his casual admission. Logically, she knew he must’ve had sex before. It would’ve been like some cosmic joke if the feared Lord Voldemort was a virgin. Still She didn’t exactly want to be reminded in this particular moment that he’d fucked other women.

 

“Now what?” he askedtersely while taking in her expression.

 

“How many?” she asked bluntly, not sure where her boldness was suddenly coming from.

 

“I beg your pardon?” he asked incredulously.

 

“You heard me. How. Many. Women. Have. You. Fucked.” Hermione said slowly annunciating each word. If she was able to do so, she would have crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot waiting for his answer. However, he was currently nestled between her thighs, bracing himself above her and staring down at her angrily.

 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business, but, to be honest, I’ve lost count.” He snapped.

 

Hermione snorted indelicately, “Typical. You know how many men I’ve been with?” she said snidely.

 

“No, but I have the feeling you are going to tell me anyway…” he said mockingly

 

“Two.”

 

“So I’m lucky number three, then?” he chuckled at her inexperience, though admittedly, he was pleased by it.

 

“Don’t mock me, or you won’t be.” She threatened. She could still feel his hardness nestled between her legs, and she moaned despite herself when he rubbed it against her, making her back arch up off the bed with need.

 

“Don’t make threats you don’t intend to keep.” He told her as he continued to rock against her.

 

She did her best to glare at him, but it was only half-hearted at best since he was providing the most delicious friction on her clit as he rocked against her.

 

“Enough talk. Turn over and get on your hands and knees.” He commanded

 

She once again felt a rush of wetness at his brusque command, and felt herself complying.

 

He slid into her from behind and his arm wrapped around her so that his long fingers could tease her while he slammed into her from behind. Hermione never knew sex could feel like this; he was hitting spots inside her that she didn’t even know she had, and she could already feel her orgasm building slowly getting stronger and stronger with every thrust of his hips and every stroke of his fingers. Before long, she cried out feeling her muscles clench around him in release. She heard him grunt before his thrusts became more erratic until he finally pulled out of her and she felt something warm and wet land on her behind.

 

“What was that?! Did you just do what I think you did?” she shrieked turning hear head to look behind her.

 

‘What?” He said not understanding what her problem was.

 

“Did you just… _come_ on me?” She asked him, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

 

“Where else would I come?” he shrugged. Merlin this witch was something else.

 

“I don’t know, on the bed, or something? A tissue, maybe?” she offered

 

“I have to sleep here, you know.” He said like it was the most obvious reason in the world. Who cares about her, as long as the bed was clean.

 

“Well, can you...erm…wipe it off?” He just looked at her lifted a brow.

 

“You can use the shower, if you like.” Was all he said as he stretched back in the bed, folding his hands behind his head.

 

Hermione huffed in annoyance and tried to gracefully scoot off of the bed without making his cum get all over everything. As she made to lean back up, a treacherous sound erupted from her vagina causing her to freeze and make her want to die of embarrassment. She had just queefed in front of Lord Voldemort.

 

“Did you just…” he started to say, his eyes wide in shock

 

“Shut up!” Hermione snapped and buried her face back in the sheets of his bed.

 

“Was that what I think it was?” he started to laugh at her obvious discomfort.

 

“No, it wasn’t! Don’t say another word!” she shrieked.

 

She scooted off the bed the rest of the way and sprinted to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She could still hear him laughing, and she just wanted the floor to swallow her up. She was even thinking about casting the killing curse on herself just to be free of this utter humiliation.

 

Could this night seriously get any worse? First he makes her join them for a drink, then Harry and Ron ditch her leaving her with him, then he decides to finger her practically in front of his lackys, then she gets assaulted by his snake (in more ways then one) then after having, admittedly, mind blowing sex, she queefed in front of the _fucking Dark Lord_. She could already imagine him relaying the story to Lucius at their next Death Eater Revel.

 

Harry may be the ‘Boy who Lived’, but she would now forever be known as ‘The Girl who Queefed.’

 

After she finally managed to get herself under some semblance of control, and had quickly showered, she reluctantly made her way back to his bedroom. She felt like she was walking to her own execution. He was still lying in bed, and when she entered the room, he looked over at her expressionlessly and blinked before he once again snorted in laughter quite against his will. He liked to think he was always in total control over himself, but between the memory of what happened, her reaction to it, and the look of mortification still on her face, he couldn’t contain himself.

 

She took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips, giving him her best glare, but that only made him laugh harder at her.

 

“You better not tell anyone about this.” She spat.

 

“I’m not sure I could if I tried.” He said trying to control his breathing while trying to stop laughing.

 

“Look, I don’t know how this night could possibly get any more awkward, so I’m just going to go…” She said looking anywhere but at him.

 

“I didn’t dismiss you.” He said finally getting his carefully crafted control back into place

 

“Why on earth would you want me to stay? You’ve already gotten what you wanted, and I have now so thoroughly embarrassed myself I daresay, nothing could make it worse. And to top it all off, I’m a _mudblood_ , remember?” She said sarcastically, becoming exasperated with his games.

 

He frowned at her. She truly was unpredictable, which is what he liked about her. True, she was a mudblood, which was admittedly, unfortunate, but, he would be willing to overlook that small detail because of her fiery personality. He liked that she didn’t seem fearful of him, and that she was intelligent, and bold, and he definitely found her attractive. Also, quite without his consent, she made him laugh. He hadn’t laughed like that in well…years. The last time he’d found anything even remotely that funny, had been years ago when Lucius bent so far forward trying to bow down to him that he split his pants. Now that had been funny.

 

“I find you to be quite pleasurable to be around.” He said smoothly, folding his arms over his chest.

 

“Well considering you just Fuc…” she began before he cut her off sharply

 

“No, that’s not what I was referring to. Although, I must confess, I thoroughly enjoyed that part.” He said smirking at her once more.

 

“So what am I to be, then, the court jester?” she said mockingly

 

“Watch your cheek.” He said sternly before speaking once more.

 

“I simply meant exactly what I said. I find being around you enjoyable. Take that to mean however you will. Why must women always look for hidden meanings?” he said with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

 

“Well, when a woman is dealing with a sneaky Slytherin, can you blame her?” she joked smirking back at him.

 

He smirked at her jibe, knowing she hadn’t truly meant it as an insult, correcting her slightly, “Not _a_ Slytherin, _The_ Slytherin.” before he beckoned her to come to him.

 

“Come here.” He commanded, and she instantly obeyed.

 

He pulled the towel from around her torso that had been hiding her naked body from his eyes, and he grabbed her hair roughly before he pulled her down capture her lips in a kiss. While he continued to kiss her, his hand let go of her hair and slid over her neck and down her chest between her breasts to the juncture of her thighs. She was already wet for him again. He pulled aside the covers and urged her to climb on top of him so that she was straddling his lap. She sank down onto his hardness, trying yet another new position she had never done before. He was leaning back against the headboard, grasping her hips tightly as she rode him. She didn’t know what to do with her hands at first, so she had grasped his shoulders for support. She felt the familiar delicious friction building up once again in her belly, her eyes slipped shut, and she let go of his shoulders to run her hands along her breasts teasing her nipples as she began to clench around him as he orgasm took hold. He began to hiss in Parseltongue as he watched her come apart in his lap. This time, he found his release inside of her before she moved off of him to lay beside him in the bed.

 

“How often does that happen?” she asked him with a smirk

 

“What?” he asked tiredly

 

“You were hissing at me.” She chuckled.

  
“I wasn’t aware.” He mumbled. _Was he embarrassed?_

 

“It was actually…kind of sexy.” She admitted, a blush coloring her cheeks

 

He looked up at her and smirked, “Says the girl who doesn’t like snakes.”

 

“Maybe they’re growing on me.” She retorted before she curled up next to him and fell asleep.


	2. Come Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: one last chapter to go! I have other Tomione fics in the works (Yes, actual Tom Riddle and Hermione ones…not Lord Voldemort. As much as I love Voldie, I just can’t write a relatively serious story about Hermione getting it on with Snake face Voldemort…Noses. They are important, people. ) Anyway, thank you in advance for your reviews!! Xo
> 
> And Yes, the ‘Bag of dicks’ scene was inspired by Louis CK, who is my hero.

**Chapter 2 – Come Again?**

 

 

The next morning, after a particularly awkward cup of tea with Voldemort, Hermione apparated back to her flat only to find Harry passed out on her couch. Seeing him there reignited her anger towards him from the previous night. She shook him to wake him up and heard him groan into the throw pillow that was now partially soggy with his drool.

 

“Wake up, you prat!” she smacked his shoulder and stood back with her arms folded across her chest, waiting impatiently for him to rouse.

 

“…Mione, what times’it” he mumbled completely oblivious to her anger.

 

“Time for you to get your ass up off my couch, that’s what time it is.” She snapped.

 

He sat up and took in the angry expression on her face, as well as the fact that she was still wearing the clothes she had on last night. Her hair was also sticking out at odd angles. If he didn’t know any better, she looked like she had gotten thoroughly shagged last night. Well, good for her if she did…at least one of them was getting action. Ginny hadn’t spoken to him in a week, since he had made a tiny innocent comment about Cho Chang’s nude photo shoot in _Play Wizard_ Magzine.

 

“What’s gotten into your knickers?” he replied rubbing his shoulder where she had smacked him.

 

“Um, let me see… _Voldemort._ ”

 

Oh. _Oh_.

 

“We shouldn’t have left you there last night, Hermione…” Harry tried to sound apologetic.

 

“You _think?_ Did it ever cross your puny little mind that maybe, just maybe, he forced me to sit there with them? I mean come on, you’ve known me for what…nine years now? Have I ever given you the impression that I would willingly decide to do shots with Death Eaters for shits and giggles?!” Her voice was shrill now as she tried to not scream in his face.

 

Harry’s jaw tightened when he once again took in her appearance and her earlier comment, “Did he force himself on you, Hermione?” he tried to ask gently, although the hatred he felt towards Voldemort made that difficult to manage.

 

“Er…not exactly.” Hermione replied stiffly, suddenly feeling very guilty.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Harry asked her incredulously

 

“He forced me to have a drink with him…” Hermione trailed off

 

“Did he shag you, Hermione?” Harry asked bluntly, not sure he even wanted to hear the answer.

 

“Yes, he did…but that part was consensual.” She coughed nervously, not wanting to meet his eyes. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

 

Harry’s jaw dropped when she said this, surely thinking he had misheard.

 

“So let me get this straight. Last night, Voldemort forced you to have a drink with him. Then, you willingly had sex with him. _What the Bloody fuck, Hermione_?!” Harry shouted before clutching his head in pain from the hangover.

 

“Well, none of it would have happened if you two twats hadn’t left me there with him and a table full of Death Eaters! I may have drank a little more than I should have, and I was pissed at the both of you, but he was actually respectful towards me…other than calling me a mudblood a few times.”

 

“Wait, he called you a mudblood, and you still let him shag you?! Where is your self respect, Hermione?!” Harry snapped at her in disbelief.

 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. You mean like the time you let Cho cry her eyes out to you about Cedric in hopes that she would try to alleviate her grief in your bed? Besides, I was able to see a side of him many people never get to see…”

 

“Which one, the murderous one, or the megalomaniac one? Harry quipped sarcastically.

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “You are impossible. You left me there, and what happened, happened. I actually don’t have any regrets. Well, that’s not entirely true…there is one thing I regret, but I’ll be taking that one to my grave, thank you very much.”

 

Harry raised an eyebrow at that.

 

“So now that you are sleeping with the enemy, does he still want to kill you?” Harry asked rubbing his temples. This just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

 

“Not at the moment, at least. If he decides he’s bored with me, probably, but for now I think I am relatively safe. You guys though, are probably pretty well fucked.”

 

“Thanks Hermione.” Harry said sarcastically.

 

“Don’t mention it.” She said before she stormed off into the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea.

 

 

~~{0}~~

 

 

A month later, Hermione scribbled a hasty note with a shaky hand and sent it off with an owl. She was pacing back and forth in her flat when a little less than an hour later, she received a reply.

 

She took the letter from the owl’s leg, and recognized Lord Voldemort’s wax seal. She opened it, and took a deep breath before she read his reply. There were only two words written on the parchment:

 

_Come Again?_

 

She cursed herself for being such a wimp and sending him an owl, but she was so afraid of his reaction that she tried the owl first. Now, she realized, this was a delicate conversation that really should be had in person.

 

She pulled her cloak around herself and apparated to the cemetery where she had first arrived with him, before making her way down to his estate. When she stepped up to the door, she was flooded with anxiety. What if he tried to kill her? That would be a quick way to rid himself of this particular inconvenient problem.

 

Hermione touched her palm to the door, and was surprised when his wards allowed her to enter. He must’ve changed them after their night together in hopes that she would come by more often. She had thought about it a few times, but in the end, decided that a relationship between them would just never work, since they saw things so differently.

 

She heard shouting and muffled screams coming form his study, so she walked up to the door and hesitantly knocked.

 

“Enter!” He said sharply before speaking in low tones once again to someone else.

 

Hermione opened the door and peeked around it. She saw Lucius laying on the floor still twitching from the aftermath of the cruciatus curse, snot flowing freely down his face.

 

Voldemort was apparently in a foul mood.

 

“Miss Granger, I believe you own me an explanation for the owl you sent me earlier this morning.” He said in an eerily calm voice.

 

“Well, I hardly think I need to explain the mechanics of how it happened, do I? I mean, after all, you were there…” she said in clipped tones, obviously irritated by his insinuation that this was all somehow her fault.

 

“Do not mock me, Hermione, I want to know what your intentions are.” He said warningly

 

By now, Lucius had managed to pull himself to his feet, and was taking in their conversation with great interest. Why was Potter’s mudblood here, and why wasn’t she writhing on the floor in pain as he had just been?

 

“My intentions? You make it sound like we’re talking about an insignificant object. I should think my intentions would be quite clear, but it’s _your_ intentions I am more concerned about!” She said angrily, beginning to raise her voice.

 

Lucius smiled evilly at what he knew must be coming. Any minute now, she’d be a lifeless heap on the floor. _Any minute_.

 

“What do you want from me, Hermione?!” he asked exasperatedly.

 

_Wait a minute…Hermione? He’s calling the mudblood Hermione now?_

 

“I want you to be his _father._ ”

 

Lucius eyes widened in shock. No, there is no way it could be what it sounded like…If it was, this was quite the scandal! The Dark Lord impregnating a mudblood? He could already see the headlines now…

 

“Well, that would be difficult considering that you have made it pretty clear over the last month that you did not wish to pursue a relationship with me.” He said snidely, folding his arms across his chest.

 

Lucius so badly wished he had an invisibility cloak, since this was so obviously a personal conversation that he was quite sure he probably shouldn’t be privy to. And also, maybe some popcorn.

 

“That was supposed to be a one night stand. How was I to know you wanted to actually date me! Sending Wormtail to my flat with lingerie was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. Honestly, I can’t think of a single thing that is more creepy than that.” She shot back at him.

 

“He wasn’t supposed to ask you to model it for him, and I punished him severely for his insolence. How many times must I apologize for that?” he shouted back at her.

 

“Yes, because romance is spelled C-R-U-C-I-O. Really, Tom?”

 

He sighed and rubbed his temples with his long fingers.

 

“So I may have made a mistake with Wormtail, but what about when I invited you to dinner? Surely you could find nothing wrong with that, but you still complained.

 

“You invited me to dinner at the Lestranges house.” She dead panned.

 

“And what is so terrible about that? They have a lovely home.” He argued.

 

“Bellatrix carved ‘mudblood’ into my steak, Tom.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. _Oh_.” Hermione mocked.

 

Lucius snorted and Hermione looked over at him sharply.

 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t ‘The Girl who Que-“ Lucius began before Voldemort began to desperately make hand motions across his neck for Lucius to shut his trap.

 

“Tom!” Hermine shrieked and Voldemort held up his hands as if to say he had no idea what Lucius was talking about.  


“Lucius, you can go eat a bag of dicks!” She said borrowing that particular insult from Harry’s colorful vocabulary.

 

Voldemort laughed at the scandalized look on Lucius’ face once again at that particular insult.

 

“Here Lucius, I’ll even get you started.” Voldemort said in what he hoped was an authoritative tone while still trying not to laugh. He actually conjured a _bag of dicks_ and levitated it into Lucius hands.

 

Lucius squealed like a girl and dropped the bag, limp dicks falling all over Voldemort’s rug.

 

“Eww.” Hermione scrunched her nose in disgust.

 

“Lucius, you dropped your dicks. Pick them all up off my rug. _Now_. Then take your bag of dicks and get out of my sight.” Voldemort told him.

 

“See, this is another perfect example.” Hermione said calmly.

 

“What do you mean?” Voldemort sighed. Was she still going on about this?

 

“You take things to far. I made a _comment_ about a bag of dicks, and then you went ahead an actually _conjured one_. I don’t think anyone would ever actually want to see a _real_ bag of dicks, Tom. This is exactly what I’m talking about.” She sighed.

 

“Fine. I’ll work on my subtlety.” He acquiesced.

 

Hermione sighed and absent mindedly placed a hand over her stomach. Maybe she could give him another chance…

 

“I’m making curry later, would you like to join me in my flat for dinner?” she offered, hoping they could give things another try. Afterall, they had nine months to work out all of their differences.

 

“It would be my pleasure, _Hermione_ …” he drawled as he pulled her to him.


	3. We need to have a talk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I couldn’t help myself, there was a little more fun to be had, so there’s you’re epilogue…I hope you enjoyed it! Not much in the way of smut, I’m afraid, but, I am working on some additional Tom/Hermione fics that have lots of smut. They aren’t entirely crack fics like this one, but I also have a few ideas for those up my sleeve as well.

**Epilogue –**

 

 

“Tom, I think we need to have a talk.” Hermione sat on the divan and rubbed her temples.

 

Voldemort sighed. When Hermione said she wanted to have ‘ _a talk’_ it usually meant that somehow he had pissed her off again. These days, merely breathing seemed to do the trick.

 

“Let me guess, I have once again done something that has displeased you. You know, I thought I was difficult to please, but I think you have far surpassed even me.” He snapped his fingers until Wormtail ran into the room, tripping on the rug, and landing on his face in front of Hermione’s feet.

 

Hermione looked down on the pathetic wizard at her feet, and her gaze shot back up to Voldemort briefly, before she rolled her eyes.

 

“Fire whiskey, Wormtail. _NOW_.”

 

Wormtail leapt to his feet and poured his master a drink while an awkward silence filled the room.

 

Once he had his fire whiskey in hand, and Wormtail scurried out of the room, He looked at Hermione and held out his hand granting her permission to speak.

 

“You may speak.” He said smoothly, taking a sip of his fire whiskey.

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, and sarcastically quipped, “Oh, why thank you, your majesty.”

 

Voldemort smirked, her sarcasm completely lost on him.

 

“I wanted to talk about what happened at dinner the other night.” She finally said.

 

“I don’t see what you could possibly be upset about, the food was excellent-“ he began before she cut him off angrily

 

“My parents have not spoken to me since, Tom.” She huffed and folded her arms across her chest.

 

“Oh please, Hermione, _those muggles_ were lucky that I endured their presence, not to mention it was a five star dining establishment.” Voldemort snapped, picking a small piece of lint from his robes.

 

“ _Those_ _muggles_ are my parents! Soon to be _your_ in-laws, you son of a bitch!” she shouted angrily, her fists clenched at her sides.

 

“I’ll have you know, that my mother was no such thing…or so I’m told. My Uncle though, well, I can’t say the same for him.” Voldemort shot back at her.

 

Hermione began counting under her breath, trying to rid herself of the overwhelming urge to throttle him.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked in annoyance

 

“I’m counting to ten…” she muttered as she continued to count under her breath “ _seven…eight…nine_..”

 

“I can see that, but why?”

 

“Because you are pissing me off! There, now my eye is twitching. Great job.” Hermione took a deep breath.

 

“Fine, so I won’t call them _those muggles_ anymore. Happy?” Voldemort hissed.

 

“Hardly. That’s only the tip of the iceberg, _darling._ ” Hermione snapped, “As I was saying, my parents haven’t spoken to me since what happened at dinner the other night.”

 

“One would think that they should be grateful about being included in private moment, such as it was.” Voldemort took another sip of his drink and stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles.

 

“I’m sure they would have appreciated the sentiment more, had they in any way been prepared for what the evening would hold.” Hermione glared.

 

“Watching their only daughter become engaged to the Dark Lord wasn’t enough for them? Hermione, not even my inner circle was invited to witness such an event.” Voldemort sniffed haughtily and swirled his drink around his glass.

 

“Well, I’m sure your _inner circle_ would have appreciated it much more than my parents when you _crucio’d_ the waiter because your asparagus was overcooked.” Hermione spat

 

“You know I do not tolerate mistakes, Hermione. I can guarantee, that waiter will never ruin anyone else’s meal ever again.” He retorted as if he’d actually done the man a favor.

 

“And let’s not forget your proposal!” Hermione stood from the couch looking down at him with her hands on her hips.

 

“I’m the Dark Lord, Hermione, don’t tell me you expected hearts and flowers…besides, I did present you with an exquisite ring.”

 

“Oh, yes, how could I forget about the ring, Tom? It was still attached to the dead woman’s hand!”

 

“Oh calm down, it wasn’t anyone you know.”

 

“That is _so not_ the point!” Hermione shrieked and actually stomped her foot.

 

“If I am so spectacularly falling short of your expectations, then why did you accept, hmm? I’m not about to change, Hermione.”

 

Hermione sighed once again, “I know, and I don’t expect you to. Well, that isn’t entirely true…I was hoping we could tone down the blackness in your soul to maybe a dark grey…”

 

“Hermione…” he said warningly

 

“Fine. You want to know the truth?” She said exasperatedly.

 

“I expect _nothing less_.” he said dangerously

 

“You are an unbelievable bastard that drives me completely mad sometimes, but you are a _God_ in the sack. It makes absolutely no sense at all, and I’ve long ago given up on looking for a rational explanation, but somehow along the way, for reasons I can’t fathom, I fell in love with you anyway.”

 

Voldemort smirked, “A _God_ you say?”

 

Hermione blushed fiercely.

 

“You know as well as I do that I’ve never had orgasms like that before.” Hermione admitted sheepishly.

 

“Oh, so you mean Potter and Weasley weren’t getting the job done properly then?” He quipped, clearly enjoying this much more than he should.

 

“Potter? Why on earth would you ever think I slept with _Harry_?” Hermione asked in confusion.

 

“Are you saying you haven’t?” he asked, his curiosity now piqued.

 

“Of course not! Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve even been able to fit in the bed with his over inflated ego…what with him being _the chosen one_ and all.” Hermione scoffed.

 

“And Weasley? I see you conveniently didn’t deny that.” Voldemort chuckled.

 

“It was one time, and we were both drunk. Once I saw that the curtain matched the drapes, I was already regretting that decision.” Hermione admitted.

 

Voldemort chuckled darkly.

 

“So, may I ask, who had the honor of being undesirable number 2?” Voldemort questioned while he swirled his drink around his glass.

 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Viktor Krum.” Hermione sniffed.

 

“Huh. I wouldn’t have expected him.” Voldemort said cryptically.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” she shot back. Was he making fun of her now?

 

“He’s not particularly intelligent, is he.” He said knowingly while smirking at her.

 

Hermione sighed.

 

“Viktor was more of a physical being. He wasn’t particularly loquacious, but he was rather good at oral sex.” Hermione said nonchalantly.

 

Voldemort’s eyes widened and he promptly spit out his drink.

 

“My, my, my, aren’t we just _full_ of secrets…” he finally said once he had recovered himself.

 

Hermione smirked, “And you’re not? Please…Mister ‘Horcruxes R Us’”

 

Voldemort glared at her, but allowed her insult to go unpunished…for now.

 

“Back to what I was saying…My parents still aren’t speaking to me.” Hermione brought them back on topic.

 

“And what do you expect me to do about that?” He huffed indignantly

 

“Well, since I know it’ll be a cold day in hell before they can ever expect an apology…maybe you would reconsider my father’s offer?” Hermione hedged

 

“I’m not calling him ‘ _Dad_ ’ if that’s what you mean.” He quipped.

 

Hermine chuckled at the mental image, “Ah, no…I meant that you should consider allowing my parents to help with the baby when it arrives.” Hermione explained.

 

“How many times have we discussed this, Hermione? The child will be perfectly well taken care of-“

 

She interrupted once again before he could finish, “And how many times have I pointed out that Nagini is _not_ a suitable babysitter! Have you _ever_ watched the news, Tom?” She sighed in exasperation.

 

“Nagini is perfectly capable-“

 

“No.”

 

Voldemort glared at her.

 

“Fine. But when the baby starts hissing at you, and you don’t understand what it wants, don’t come running to me.” He said crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“…the baby will…hiss at me?” Hermione asked in disbelief

 

“Every generation descended from Salazar Slytherin has been a Parselmouth.” He said matter of fact.

 

Hermione scowled.

 

“Also…we still haven’t agreed on a name, Tom. And before you ask, we’re not calling him Voldemort Jr.” She said patting her stomach absent mindedly

 

“What about Mephistopheles? That is a fine name worthy of my offspring.” Voldemort offered thoughtfully.

 

“You can’t be serious.” Hermione dead panned

 

“What is wrong with it?” he snapped

 

“Seeing as you already ruled out any child of yours carrying your last name, because you just can’t seem to accept that your dad sucked as a parent and move on, any first name we choose will be paired with Granger.”

 

“Your point?”

 

“Mephistopheles Granger. Really, Tom?”

 

“What is wrong with that?”

 

“Oh nothing, unless you want your child to be bullied and friendless.

 

Voldemort sighed. He remembered all too well how cruel kids could be…especially since he was usually the one to bully them.

 

“Well what do you suggest? And before you even say it, we’re not naming him after your father.”

 

“And what is wrong with naming him after my father?”

 

“Aside from the fact that he’s a filthy-“

 

Hermione sent him a warning glare.

 

“…a perfectly _normal_ muggle, I’m not naming my child _Dick_. I can see it now… _My Lord, I hope your Dick is behaving today_.” He said distastefully as he made a face

 

Hermione snorted.

 

“Okay, fine, point taken.” She said as she tried to get her laughter under control while Voldemort continued to glare at her.

 

“We could just skip the whole naming thing altogether and call him ‘ _He who must not be named…_ ” Hermione tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably.

 

“That is _not_ funny, Hermione.”

 

“Oh Merlin, yes it is! Can you imagine when people at University ask me about my family? I can say, _Oh I’m Hermione Granger. I’m married to you know who, and my son is he who must not be named_.”

 

“Don’t make me _crucio_ a pregnant woman.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare.

 

“Wouldn’t I?” he smirked at her, knowing it was an empty threat.

 

“Fine. What other names do you have in mind?” She asked stifling her laughter.

 

“Adonis?” he offered unabashedly

 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the arrogance the name itself held, but at least it was better than Mephistopheles.

 

“I suppose it could work, not that I want the kid to be born with an ego that could rival Harry’s…”

 

“Well, he _is my_ son.”

 

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

 

“That he is. He’s already making far too many demands in there for a being of that size.”

 

“What do you mean?” He asked not sure he wanted to know

 

“Well, He kicks me a lot when I’m trying to sleep, jumps up and down on my bladder at the most inopportune times, and make me crave the certain foods…”

 

“Like what kinds of foods?” he asked curiously

 

Hermione suddenly looked very guilty.

 

“I see that look, Hermione, what have you been eating?”

 

*cough* pizza *cough*

 

“What was that? It almost sounded like…”

 

“…pizza. Lots of it.”

 

Voldemort made a disgusted face, “Disgusting muggle cuisine. You’re feeding _my child_ filthy muggle food?” he glared at her annoyed.

 

“He apparently likes it very much, because I get these cravings and I…”

 

“You will not feed my child that-“

 

“Have you ever actually tried it?”

 

“Of course not, I would never lower myself to-“

  
“Then how do you know you don’t like it?”

 

“It’s the principle, Hermione.” He sniffed haughtily.

 

“Principle or not, I’m not raising my child with this blind prejudice you seem to have, which by the way, you’ve never once have actually been able to argue with any shred of logic.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Voldemort’s eyes widened. How dare she?

 

“You heard me. You’re a hypocrite, Tom. You want to rule the world on the basis that muggles and muggleborns are trash, yet you yourself have no problem _whatsoever_ shagging and marrying a muggleborn witch, not to mention the fact that you are only a half blood. This child will only be a quarter blood. You need to get off that high horse you are on, and join the rest of us in a little thing called Reality.” She stood once again with her hands on her hips.

 

Voldemort’s eyes widened in shock at her audacity.

 

“Hermione, I am the Dark Lord; you will not-“

 

“Look, I’m not trying to fight with you, believe it or not…I’m trying to get you to see that there is so much more in this world than this tiny bubble you’ve created for yourself. Maybe if you…”

 

“No. This discussion is over.” He snapped.

 

“Fine. If you change your mind, I’ll be in the dining room having lunch. It would please me if you joined me.” Hermione said softly before she left the room.

 

 

~~{0}~~

 

 

Hermione sighed happily as she lifted the slice of bacon pizza to her lips. She had never been one for enjoying greasy food, but being pregnant seemed to change all of that.

 

She heard footsteps and a throat clear from the doorway.

 

She extended her hand to the chair across from her, inviting her fiancé to sit across from her.

 

“What is that you are eating? I could smell it all the way from the other room.”

 

“Here, why don’t you have some. It’s delicious.”

 

She put a slice of pizza on a plate and slid it over to him.

 

He looked at it questioningly, and sniffed it before flicking his eyes up towards hers.

 

She raised her eyebrow at his inspection of the food and took a bite of her own slice.

 

He picked up the knife and fork and began to elegantly cut the pizza into small bites. Hermione bit back a smirk as she lifted her own slice with her hand and took another bite.

 

Finally, he speared a piece with this fork, and took a bite. As he chewed, his eyes slipped shut and he actually _groaned_.

 

“It’s good then, I take it?”

 

By now, he was practically inhaling the rest of the small bites he had cut, and was too focused on his food to deign to answer her until he had eaten it all.

 

“This is exquisite. Why have we never had this before?” Voldemort asked accusingly, as if she had been holding out on him.

 

“Speak for yourself, I’ve had this plenty of times.” She said cryptically.

 

He looked down at the slice on his plate, which by now was number four…

 

“Hermione, what did you say this was again?”

 

“I didn’t.” she said simply, smirking.

 

He scowled at her.

 

“And on a scale of one to ten, ten being the best food you’ve ever tasted, how would you rank this?” She asked

 

By now, Voldemort had abandoned the knife and fork, as it only slowed the process of getting this glorious food into his mouth, and he looked at her thoughtfully.

 

“I would have to say it’s at least an eight…I can’t stop eating it!” he said while looking at the slice in his hands as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

 

Hermione smiled knowingly.

 

“So what do you call this, then?” he asked her again.

 

“Pizza.” Hermione snickered.

 

 

~~{0}~~

 

 

“Did I mention that we would be having company over for dinner this evening?” Hermione said casually while sifting through the dresses in her closet.

 

“No, you didn’t. And who, might I ask, will be joining us?” He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hoped it wasn’t her parents again.

 

“Harry and Ginny.”

 

Voldemort scowled. Why must Potter plague him at every turn? He couldn’t even eat a meal in peace these days without the annoying reminder of _the boy who deserved a good beating_.

 

“Hermione…”

 

“Look, I know what you’re going to say, but you made a deal with me, Tom, and I am not allowing you to back out of it now.” She said defiantly.

 

“I don’t recall making any sort of deal that included dining with Potter.” He spat venomously.

 

“Well, not specifically, no…but you do recall that little potion I brewed for you, don’t you? Because _I_ seem to recall you _promising me_ that if I brewed you the potion, that you would grant me a favor in return.”

 

Voldemort sighed. He did agree to that. Having his younger body and face back though, was worth at least a hundred dinners with Potter. Not to mention the added benefit of Hermione’s over active sex drive.

 

“Fine.” Voldemort spat.

 

“Please try to be nice.” Hermione looked at him pointedly in the mirror.

 

Voldemort scoffed.

 

About an hour later, Hermione greeted Harry and Ginny at the door. Ginny looked pale as if she was about to be sick on her shoes, and Harry greeted her stiffly.

 

“I’m so glad you could both make it.” Hermione said genuinely happy to see them.

 

“Don’t mention it.” Harry said awkwardly, wanting to be anywhere else but there. He had only agreed to this dinner for Hermione’s sake, since she was intent on marrying Voldemort much to Harry’s dismay.

 

Voldemort stood in the doorway behind her leaning casually against the doorframe looking like a model straight from GQ.

 

“Potter. Miss Weasely” he drawled.

 

Ginny’s eyes widened even further as her eyes raked over his form. What happened to pasty snake face? Ginny blushed as she remembered the last time she had seen him looking like this, from when she had been talking to him through his diary. She never did tell Harry about how utterly attractive she had thought he was then. Hermione was a lucky bitch.

 

“Voldemort.” Harry said shooting a death glare at him.

 

Voldemort smirked.

 

“Would you care for a drink? Hermione offered playing the hostess. She had vehemently put her foot down when Voldemort had suggested that Wormtail could do it. She wanted that disgusting rat out of their house, and she definitely didn’t want him anywhere near Harry.

 

“Wine would be excellent, Thank you.” Ginny said politely, needing a drink to calm her frazzled nerves.

 

After Hermione poured wine for Ginny, and Fire Whiskey for Harry and her fiancé, she went to go take her seat next to Tom on the sofa. She squeaked in surprise when she was pulled unceremoniously onto his lap instead.

 

“Hermione tells me that you’ve been working for the Ministry, Potter. Have you found such work to be… _satisfying_?” Tom asked to make an attempt at conversation for Hermione’s sake, through truthfully, he could care less what Potter thought.

 

“I suppose it’s had its benefits. Just last week, I had the good fortune of escorting Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban.” He said snidely, wanting to taunt Voldemort.

 

“Yes, well, Lucius has had it coming, I suppose. Is it true that when he was caught, he was actually carrying around a… _bag of dicks_?” Tom asked innocently.

 

Hermione choked on her tea.

 

Harry narrowed his eyes at Voldemort. How did he know about that? Unless…

 

“I mean, I cannot even imagine what one would want to do with a _whole bag of dicks_ …” Tom said smirking.

 

Harry’s lips twitched despite himself. If Voldemort had anything to do with it, maybe Hermione was having a good influence on him after all.

 

“Shall we eat? The dining room is this way…” Hermione stood breaking the awkward silence and gestured for everyone to follow her to the next room.

 

Harry and Ginny took their seats opposite Hermione and Tom, and much like the tables at Hogwart’s, their dinner suddenly appeared on large platters before them on the table.

 

Harry and Ginny made no move to take any food, and Hermione scowled.

 

“Oh honestly, Harry, the food isn’t poisoned.” Hermione said in irritation spooning a rather large scoop of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

 

Harry and Ginny both looked properly chastised and began to serve themselves. Once everyone else had taken their food, Voldemort wandlessly waved his hand so his food would appear on his plate. Show off.

 

Ginny kept her eyes trained on her plate, taking small bites of food, not daring to look at Tom Riddle who was sitting across from her, watching her and Harry closely with this dark gaze.

 

She jumped in surprise when she felt Harry’s hand land lightly on her knee, giving it a small squeeze. She felt comforted, and let her posture relax slightly, as she listened to Hermione talk about some of her plans for the wedding. Eventually, Harry removed his hand, and she could almost forget that she was sitting in Voldemort’s dining room, having a surprisingly good meal, and drinking a glass of wine.

 

After dinner was cleared, and dessert appeared on the table, Ginny’s cheeks had grown noticeably warm, as she had consumed a little more wine than she had intended. She jumped once again when she felt something smooth and warm glide along her inner thigh. Her eyes darted to Harry, who was not looking in her direction. She dared look across the table at Tom, who was looking bored, sipping from his glass of fire whiskey. His eyes shifted almost imperceptibly to her, before flicking back over at Hermione.

 

Ginny tried to ignore the warmth creeping up her inner thigh, until it brushed lightly across the front of her knickers, and she gasped in surprise.

 

“Miss Weasley, are you unwell?” Tom said smoothly, gazing at her with his dark fathomless eyes.

 

“Uh…I’m fine. She said quickly, shooting a glare at Harry wondering what he was playing at.

 

“What are you doing?” She hissed quietly at Harry, low enough that the other’s wouldn’t hear.

 

“What are you talking about?!” Harry whispered back

 

“You just…touched me…under the table.” Ginny whispered her cheeks as red as her hair.

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about…” Harry said narrowing his eyes at Voldemort.

 

A Minute later, Ginny felt it again, and she moaned before she could stop herself. Tom’s eyes widened and flicked over to Harry. He didn’t have the nerve to fondle his girlfriend under the table in _his_ dining room, did he? If so, _Bravo_ Mister Potter.

 

Hermione sat, quite oblivious sipping her tea when she felt Tom’s hand slither over her thigh under the table. Her eyes flicked up to him, and his face remained impassive, as he listened to Harry drone on about working at the ministry. Hermione gasped a moment later, quickly covering it with a yawn, when she felt Toms fingers slip beneath her knickers and begin to tease her. He wasn’t about to be outdone in his own house.

 

Ginny once again sat up straighter suddenly and bit her lip as she once again felt something pressing insistently against her knickers. This time, she slipped her own hand beneath the table and ran it along what had been touching her in her most intimate of places. It was warm, smooth, and scaly… _wait a minute_.

 

Ginny’s eyes widened as she glanced under the table to see two beady yellow eyes staring up at her from between her legs, and she shrieked.

 

Hermione, Harry, and Tom all sprung from the table, wands drawn, as they looked at Ginny. Ginny scooted back from the table so quickly, she almost knocked her chair over in haste to get away from the great snake.

 

Hermione let out a breath of relief when she saw Nagini slither out from under the table.

 

“Tom, I thought I asked you to put Nagini in her crate? Hermione huffed looking over at Tom indignantly.

 

“It must’ve slipped my mind.” He said with amusement coloring his voice.

 

“Well, thank you for dinner, we must really do it again sometime. Would you look at the time? Harry, we really should be going.” Ginny said quickly wanting to put as much distance between her and Voldemort’s blasted snake as she could.

 

“Oh, of course…” Hermione said awkwardly as she watched Ginny pull Harry out of the house and apparate away.

 

“Well, that went well.” Tom smirked at her.

 

Hermione scowled at him.

 

“Don’t think for a moment that you aren’t going to finish what you started in there.” Hermione said raising her eyebrow at her fiancé.

 

“Tom smirked at her, pulling her into his arms as his lips brushed her ear, “I don’t do things by halves, Hermione…” he whispered huskily.

 

And just like that, he carried her up the stairs and to their bedroom, kicking the door closed with his boot.

 


End file.
